


Mirror, Mirror on the Court

by chillypeppermint



Category: Haikyuu!!, ダイヤのA | Daiya no A | Ace of Diamond
Genre: Cat Cafe, Crossover, Daichi and Eijun being related is my favourite trope, Fluff and Humour, Gen, Kageyama the love guru, Kawakami and Takeda: an unlikely friendship, M/M, Miyuki Kazuya-centric, Pining Miyuki, Short-lived violence, Suga being the team medicine cabinet, Ukai is too cool, Whump, Yes you read that right, captain bonding, equally haikyuu-daiya tbh, like seriously pining, oh there's also a lowkey shokugeki no soma reference lol, the definition of a self-indulgent fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2020-02-21 15:22:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18705019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chillypeppermint/pseuds/chillypeppermint
Summary: “Guys! It’s my cousin and his team! Come and say hello!”Miyuki does a double-take when he realises that Sawamura has somehow dashed away from his side to the stadium foyer within the space of maybe half a second. He blinks a couple of times, rubbing his eyes with his mitt before biting his cheek in disbelief. How on earth did the kid have so much energy?But there’s no time to answer one of the universe’s unanswerable questions, because Sawamura’s cousin’s team is standing right in front of them.They’re massive, is what Miyuki first thinks when he sees them. Makes sense, considering that they’re volleyball players, but it’s also kind of intimidating. Especially with those black jackets stamped with ‘Karasuno Volleyball Club’. They have quite a nice uniform, he guesses. The orange and black is a bit Halloween-y, but certainly not terrible.Well, this'll be fun.... In which Miyuki is a pining mess, and it takes a team of gay volleyball players to help him figure out what to do about it.





	1. A Tale of Two Teams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yaoyue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yaoyue/gifts).



> Enjoy!! Leave a comment to let me know what you think!  
> Chilly x

“Dai-nii! Dai-nii! Dai-nii!”

Miyuki narrowly dodges one of Sawamura’s fists as they flail frantically in the vague direction of his ‘super awesome cousin from Miyagi’. It’s almost like they’re not walking out onto the field, with an entire stadium around them and a match set to start in a few minutes.

“Oi, Bakamura, hey now. They probably can’t hear you that far up in the stands. Calm down, we need to get to the dugout, so just...”

“SAWAMURA JUNIOR! SAWAMURA JUNIOR! SAWAMURA JUNIOR!”

“... chill.”

Miyuki trails off, and their entire team stops what they’re doing to glance up at the uppermost bleacher. The sun is shining particularly aggressively (somewhere in the dugout, Furuya’s gone pale), so he’s squinting, but even so he doesn’t think he could miss the fiery orange head of hair bobbing up and down in excitement.

Raising an eyebrow, Miyuki glances between Sawamura, who’s bouncing beside him, and this… ginger ball of energy. He blinks, adjusts his glasses, and stares again.

It’s like Ctrl C, Ctrl V.

“Eijun-kun, is that your cousin?” says Kominato, voicing what the rest of the team has pretty much assumed at this point.

“Nope. I’ve never seen him before,” Sawamura says (in mid-air; Jesus Christ). He scratches his head comically before flinging his arms out a millisecond later, like the pitcher-shaped stretchy man he is.

Miyuki is _not_ endeared.

“But, but, but! I’m pretty sure Dai-nii said he was gonna bring along his team! Show them what it’s like to play at Koshien and stuff.”

“But we’re not at Koshien right now? What do you mean?” Kominato interjects with his head tilted to the side.

Thank God for Kominato Haruichi. Sating Seido’s curiosity while maintaining their delicate, delicate egos.

Sawamura blusters around on the spot for a bit, trying to find an explanation. Eventually, he looks like he’s given up and digs his heels into the dirt frustratedly.

“Eh, what’s this? Sawamura, you sure talk big, huh? Let me guess; you told your cousin that we’re going to go to Koshien. Well, if we do get there, it’ll definitely not be because of you. It’ll be because of our ace Kaibutsu-kun,” Miyuki teases. He forces himself into Sawamura’s space to jab him in the chest with an arched out pointer finger, and tries to hide how he feels inexplicably warm all over just from being in such close proximity to his pitcher.

_God, he’s got it bad._

“MIYUKI KAZUYA! I WILL BECOME THE ACE AND SURPASS FURUYA AND TANBA-SAN WHEN HE GETS BETTER AND LEAD THE TEAM TO NATIONALS AND _MMMMMPH LET GO MOCHI-SENPAI_ ,” Sawamura full-out yells before falling victim to a choke-hold from Kuramochi and a lecture from Jun-san.

Right there. On. The. Field. Before their match.

Yakushi are predictably confused in their bunker. Todoroki Raichi is predictably oblivious, and is still swinging away while murmuring Mei’s name under his breath. The umpire looks like he wants to cry.

Miyuki cackles helplessly behind his mitt, shoulders shaking.

The majority of the stadium are either laughing at them or feeling secondhand embarrassment (except for the Seido section, which has long become immune to this kind of thing).

Curiously, Miyuki peeks up at Sawamura’s cousin’s team. Most of them are laughing or have settled for looking extremely awkward. That’s expected. But not-Sawamura looks a bit more pensive. He’s studying Sawamura carefully with his eyebrows furrowed in thought and his mouth hanging slightly open.

For some reason, Miyuki doesn’t like that. And neither does the black-haired kid next to him, judging from the scowl he’s sporting and the hand gripping the rail like it’s a throat.

Just for a second, the black-haired guy’s eyes flit down at the diamond, and they make eye-contact. Miyuki feels… something there. It’s not quite understanding, but at the same time it’s more than just casual observation. Feeling uneasy, Miyuki breaks his stare and looks away. He tries to forget about it.

It proves of little consequence anyway, when Tetsu-san calls them in to do the roar. Kuramochi and Sawamura look sufficiently ashamed of themselves thanks to a telling off from Rei-chan, but this is pretty standard for them at this point. Miyuki pulls on his goggles with a small smile on his face, forgetting about the bleachers, and hones his gaze on the mound. For some reason, he has a good feeling about this match.

Sawamura looks like he’s on fire today.

\---

They win by a landslide.

\---

“MIYUKI KAZUYA! DID YOU SEE ME! DID YOU SEE THAT LAST CHANGEUP! AND MY FASTBALL, AND-”

“No, Sawamura, I didn’t. I absolutely wasn’t the one calling them,” Miyuki sighs, shrugging the arm around his shoulder off and mustering up all the sarcasm he can find.

Which, honestly, isn’t much. Sawamura really had pitched amazingly. His control had been pretty much impeccable, he’d limited Todoroki to two runs, and he’d managed to pitch six innings. He’d even pulled off an RBI single (which, for Sawamura, was the equivalent of a two-run homer).

Sawamura’s progress over the last two years has been off the charts. Miyuki still remembers the middle school kid who’d come up to him boldly, with ‘fastballs for life’.

Before he knows it, Miyuki is horrified to feel a fond smile on his face. _Fond_. How disgusting. He twists it into a smirk before anyone can see, but he has an annoying feeling that Ryosuke-san has already seen it. He always was way too perceptive.

“Guys! It’s my cousin and his team! Come and say hello!”

Miyuki does a double-take when he realises that Sawamura has somehow dashed away from his side to the stadium foyer within the space of maybe half a second. He blinks a couple of times, rubbing his eyes with his mitt before biting his cheek in disbelief. How on earth did the kid have so much energy?

But there’s no time to answer one of the universe’s unanswerable questions, because Sawamura’s cousin’s team is standing right in front of them.

They’re massive, is what Miyuki first thinks when he sees them. Makes sense, considering that they’re volleyball players, but it’s also kind of intimidating. Especially with those black jackets stamped with ‘Karasuno Volleyball Club’. They have quite a nice uniform, he guesses. The orange and black is a bit Halloween-y, but certainly not terrible.

_Well, this'll be fun._

Miyuki’s eyes roam over each of them as he tries to see which one is Sawamura’s cousin. He sees cowlicks, silver (?) hair and even that ginger from in the stands. He doesn’t have to look for long to find Sawamura’s cousin. The tanned No.1 has his same sheepish grin.

Before anyone can get a word in, Sawamura himself shoves past them all and bows so low that it looks like he’ll hit his head on the ground.

“Dai-nii!! It is my humblest pleasure to become gladly acquainted with your team. This Sawamura Eijun feels-”

“Wow, Eijun,” laughs ‘Dai-nii’. “It’s good to see you too. You haven’t changed a bit, though I think your pitching has. Stand up and stop crying, you’re embarrassing me in front of my teammates.”

“Daichi! How could you-”

Daichi wrestles Sawamura into a headlock and proceeds to ruffle his hair. The scene’s oddly sibling-esque, and Miyuki feels jealous that Sawamura’s so close with his cousin. He doesn’t even think his cousins call him by his given name.

The rest of Seido are gaping at the Karasuno team openly, all of their heads tilted sideways like an eerily in-sync set of robots. To be fair, it’s not like the Karasuno team are any better; in fact, No. 5 kind of looks like he wants to kill them.

Eventually, Daichi manages to peel Sawamura off of him. The headlock had somehow turned into Sawamura clinging to Daichi like an overzealous koala bear. After successfully extricating himself from his cousin’s embrace, Daichi bows politely at the Seido team.

“Hi! I’m Sawamura Daichi. Call me Daichi, though, seeing as you’ve already got a Sawamura on your hands. Thanks for looking after my wild cousin for the past year, and congrats on your game! We were all very impressed.”

The Seido team murmur a general ‘thanks’ that gets lost somewhere down the line. Seido High, known for its baseball. Not so much its eloquence.

Thankfully, at least Yuki knows when to act like a captain. He steps forward and grips Daichi’s hand in what Miyuki knows to be a scarily hard grip honed by years of batting practice. Daichi doesn’t seem intimidated though. The two of them stand there for a while, sizing each other up intensely - is this a captain thing? - and to Miyuki’s surprise, Tetsu-san is the first to let go. The tension both of their faces held dissipates like it was never there in the first place.

Looks like Sawamura senior is just as steely as his cousin.

“Oh, but let me introduce you to my team!” Daichi says with a smile. Just as he turns to his them, Miyuki could swear he sees his mild expression turn to something more sinister and warning when he gazes over No.s 4 and 5. He can barely hold in a snicker when he sees them literally _shake_ under Daichi’s gaze. Just how scary is this guy?

One by one, the team introduce themselves.

It’s really strange, but as they go down the line, Miyuki notices a few… similarities. Glancing around at his teammates, and judging by their poorly concealed coughing, he thinks they agree. For example, that No. 2 - Sugawara Koushi - has _such_ Ryosuke-san vibes. Right from the angelic expression to the calculating eyes. And then, that Azumane guy is basically a scarier and shyer version of Tanba. Like Tanba squared. He’s just thinking over this, when he realises No. 4 - Nishinoya, he corrects - has just finished his exuberant introduction, and the punk-y bald guy is stepping up.

“I’m Tanaka Ryuunosuke. Wing spiker. I hope you know that we Miyagi folk could beat up you _shitty boys_ any day. So just-”

Miyuki knows what’s coming. He confirms with a glance that Kuramochi knows what’s coming. Everyone who even knows of the Seidou baseball team except for the anxious Karasuno team (and probably Sawamura, knowing how oblivious he is) knows what’s coming.

The team steps backwards preemptively, letting Jun-senpai swagger forward like a cowboy in an action movie about to steal the show.

“Haaaaaaaaaaaah? What’s that about shitty boys? I’ll show _you_ who’s a shitty boy. You country bumpkins ain’t seen nothing about how tough we Tokyo men can be, ya hear? Who’s a shitty boy now, huh? _Huh_?” Jun-senpai bellows without even pausing for breath. He even grabs Tanaka’s collar and rattles him back and forth a couple of times while _growling_ like a rabid dog.

It’s almost impressive, Miyuki considers, how Spitz-like he can be sometimes.

And it only gets more hilarious from there. Especially when Tanaka literally jumps on Jun-san in retaliation, and they end up grappling at each other for a few minutes on the ground.

_Classic._

After it’s established that Jun is _‘Your senpai you brat. And also a better fighter than you’_ the rest of the introductions go pretty smoothly. Until they get to No. nine.

“I’m Kageyama. Tobio. First year. Thanks,” he manages. He contorts his features into a grimace that Miyuki thinks is meant to be a smile.

Miyuki cocks a brow, and doesn’t bother hiding his unabashed staring. This is the guy who made eye contact with him right before the match.

_Kageyama Tobio._

He’s well-built. Much like the rest of their team, his thighs are particularly muscular (nothing on Sawamura’s cousin, though). He’s tall as well; maybe a centimetre and a bit more than Miyuki.

He’s easy on the eye, but nothing special. Nice jawline, if Miyuki’s being generous. It might have been nicer if it wasn’t twisted into a permanent scowl, he reckons.

(Not as nice as someone else’s, though).

But it’s really his eyes that make Miyuki focus on him. They look steely, at first. But behind them, there’s something else. Miyuki’s not sure what, but for some reason he’s intrigued. He only realises he’s been staring for a while when those blue eyes pierce him. Again.

He turns away nonchalantly before it gets weird. And anyway, _that_ guy is introducing himself now. He’s the last one, by the looks of it.

“Hi! I’m Hinata Shouyou! I’m only 163 cm but I started playing volleyball because I admire the little giant of Karasuno very much! I know I’m short, but I’m going to be the ace someday! THE ACE!”

Hinata bounces before, during, and after his mini-introduction. Miyuki feels like his head is spinning already, and he can’t help but stare incredulously at this hyperactive child.

The entire Seido team cranes their necks around very unsubtly at their own hyperactive child who, unsurprisingly, is already in raptures thanks to having another one of his own species around.

“Hinata-kun! I’m Sawamura Eijun! I’m gonna be the ace as well! But not of volleyball! Of baseball!”

“Uwoooah that’s so cool, Eijun!”

“OSH OSH OSH! Can I call you Shouyou?”

Miyuki’s just waiting for them to start spinning around together with hearts in their eyes while singing a Disney song or something.

Thankfully, before that can happen, one of the Karasuno people intervenes - that sleepy looking No. 6 - by pulling Hinata away none too gently, and Kominato tugs Sawamura back while approximating a human tomato. Hinata looks disheartened, so another teammate, who’s somehow even shorter than him (Miyuki takes back what he said about Karasuno being a massive team) slaps him on the back enthusiastically.

“That’ll do, Hinata. That’ll do,” Nishinoya pretty much yells, finger gunning his teammates. The whole team sighs, and Daichi and Sugawara are wearing expressions of disappointment that are eerily parental.

Totally the team parents.

“Wait, was that a-!”

Miyuki looks over his shoulder to see Kuramochi of all people springing forward in rapt admiration.

“Was that what I think it was? Shrek?”

Oh. Miyuki doesn’t think he’ll ever understand Kuramochi’s slightly disturbing obsession with memes, but he _does_ know how to read Kuramochi’s face when someone references one.

(The conflict between total horror and utter joy that battled across his face one time when Furuya dryly whispered ‘Alexa, play Despacito’ after Sawamura burst into tears was film-worthy).

Nishinoya turns around with a look of genuine surprise painting his face and bounds over. “Yeah, it was! I mean, also a Babe reference, but yeah! Wait, you’re a memer too? You’re freaking Kuramochi Youichi! Your base running was _insane_ , dude.”

“All your base are belong to us,” Kuramochi quips. Even Miyuki can’t help his lips twitch at that one. He tugs his lower lip between his teeth in reprimand, worrying the skin there with his canines for a second. He glances around to see if anyone else got the reference, and for some reason, Sawamura’s staring right at him.

Huh. He didn’t really take Sawamura for a memer.

Nishinoya’s smile only widens, and he looks back at his team.

“Come on, Daichi-san, can we keep him? Please?” he blurts out. “Someone who _finally_ appreciates my memes.”

Tanaka is nodding vigorously behind him (though clutching his cheek as well. Miyuki’s not surprised. Jun-senpai packs a powerful punch).

“Noya, we can’t just - we can’t just _keep_ a member of Seido like a pet or something. I thought I told you to be good today. Anyone else feel like going to a theme park today? The ones with the height restrictions?”

To everyone’s mild horror, Nishinoya literally _goes on his knees_ and begs Daichi to _‘stop, Daichi-san, please’_. The best part is when Hinata goes and joins him, saying _‘Daichi-san, you promised you wouldn’t do that again; what’d I do?_ ”

_Again?_

Miyuki literally can’t stifle his laughter at this point, and he’s not even trying anymore so it bursts out of him in a series of undignified snorts. It’s not just him; both teams have descended into hysteria. It’s chaotic. By the end, he has to wipe tears of mirth from his eyes.

Jesus Christ. And here he thought Seido was a rowdy team. Did volleyball players’ diets consist of pure sugar or something? Or was it a country bumpkin thing? That would explain Sawamura’s permanent explosive state of motivation.

Just as everyone’s beginning to calm down, they hear a polite but strained cough.

“... Guys? I mean, Seido guys?” Kawakami says meekly from the back of the group. “Um. I think we maybe… missed our bus?”

 _That_ gets everyone’s attention.

“What? How do you know?” demands Isashiki.

“I… have twenty-two missed calls from Ota-sensei,” Kawakami says. He trails off, and his eyebrows raise incrementally higher each time he scrolls down his phone. “Yeah, uh, so apparently Takashima-san tried to get the bus to wait but they have another team to pick up after us. I think it’s actually the volleyball team, which is a coincidence.”

Miyuki quickly checks his own phone and whistles under his breath. Eight missed calls from Rei-chan and a few terse texts from Chris-senpai. And… _wow_ , they spent a lot of time talking. The match ended at around 3, they were due on the bus at 3:30, and it’s 4:07.

“Not a coincidence; just ironic,” Sugawara pitches in with a smile. “It’s the volleyball off-season, so lots of people are having training camps right now. Actually, Daichi, when are we due back at Nekoma for?”

Daichi lifts up his watch. “We have a couple of hours, I think. Yuki-san, what are you going to do? I’d offer you a lift, but we can barely squeeze ourselves onto our bus. Would you like to join us for lunch at the izakaya nearby until you can get picked up?”

Tetsu-san ponders over it for a few seconds. The Seido team hold their breath.

To be honest, Miyuki’s not too invested either way. He’s exhausted and he definitely wouldn’t mind taking a nice, hot bath. Saying that, though, he _really_ doesn’t feel like facing Coach’s inevitable fury yet; judging from their expressions, everyone else feels the same. And the Karasuno team seem entertaining. He wouldn’t mind getting to know them a bit better.

Finally, Tetsu-san caves.

“That… would be nice,” he says slowly. “Did you all remember to bring money? Takashima-san did say to bring some for emergencies.”

Most people nod, including Miyuki. Sawamura begin rummaging around in his pockets furiously as if money will just appear out of thin air.

Miyuki’s instinctively wants to say that he’s got Sawamura’s bill covered, but then he notices Furuya looking to the side with pursed lips in that expression of feigned obliviousness.

Regrettably, Miyuki’s not made of money, and showing favouritism between his pitchers is a little cruel, so he stays silent.

_Would he have offered to cover Furuya’s share if Sawamura hadn’t forgotten his?_

Thankfully, Daichi manages to jump in.

Daichi grins. “Don’t worry, Eijun. I think I can cover for my baby cousin. Oh, and Furuya-kun? That’s your name, right? I can get you as well. Great pitching, by the way. The izakaya owner is an alumnus of our team so we’ll likely get a discount, and I’ve got quite a bit. Plus, you guys can’t possibly eat more than this lot do after practice, and somehow I end up footing the bill for that every time.”

Furuya bows deeply, though his ears are tinged red. Sawamura, on the other hand…

“When did you get so rich, huh, Dai-nii? Perhaps you’ve been involved in theft? Or other misdemeanors of a similar nature? I’m telling Auntie! And-”

Sawamura squirms as Kanemaru (delegated Sawamura-wrangler) slaps a hand over his mouth. “Did nobody ever tell you not to look a gift horse in the mouth, Bakamura?”

“I know I did,” Daichi says with a smirk. Kanemaru turns his head away in embarrassment at actually being acknowledged, which is unusual. Miyuki has a feeling that his kouhai has a crush on Daichi-san, and he makes sure to take a mental note of it.

_This’ll be great blackmail material._

Speaking of crushes, though…

He sidles over to where Sawamura is, trying to be discreet.

“Sawamura,” he whispers directly into his ear from behind him, and nonchalantly slings an arm around his waist. Sawamura jumps, flustered at Miyuki’s sudden intrusion of his personal space, and squirms on the spot. Miyuki’s never seen him go so red.

“You tanuki bastard! Don’t just sneak up on me like that! What kind of a catcher are you, anyway, treating your pitcher like that! No - what kind of a _senpai_ are you!”

Miyuki totally ignores him, and unconsciously leans in even closer. Sawamura’s waist just fits beneath his arm so well. And he can smell Sawamura from this distance (is that weird?). It’s not a _nice_ smell; it’s mainly just sweat and that ‘all organic’ market-brand deodorant from Nagano that Sawamura swears by. But there’s also something distinctly _Eijun_ about it. It’s earthy and fresh, but also-

“Are you- why are you sniffing me?”

Crap.

“No, Bakamura. You smell awful, anyway, it’s disgusting,” Miyuki drawls, hoping to cover his tracks. “Hey, let’s go. Everyone’s already started moving over to the izakaya. I’m starving.”

Sure enough, they’re the only two left. Miyuki can’t even hear Hinata’s excitable voice, which is probably a sign that they need to get moving.

“This is all your fault, Miyuki Kazuya!” Sawamura declares, but there’s no real heat to the words. Miyuki has to let go of his waist so they can jog up to the others, and he tries not to think about how Sawamura never tried to extricate himself from his grip.

\---  
By the time they reach the izakaya, it becomes apparent that perhaps Daichi had underestimated the size of their party, or overestimated the size of the small pub. Either way, as roughly thirty or so teenage athletes stomp in, the owners look like they’re going to have a small heart attack.

Despite that, though, it does look like a nice place to eat in. The atmosphere bubbles with warmth, laughter, and red cheeks. There’s a low buzz of chatter, so their noise probably won’t be totally out of place. The food doesn’t seem too pricey either, and it has a very homely feel to it. Miyuki is glad that they came.

Daichi walks up to the bar unhurriedly. “Hi, my name is Sawamura Daichi. I’m from the Karasuno volleyball club? Um, our advisor, Takeda-sensei reserved some seats for us; do you know where he-”

“Sawamura! Nice of you to join us at last,” says a young-looking guy with bleached hair and an earring in one ear from a table near the bar. Sitting beside him is a timid looking man with black hair and glasses, who’s clutching a small clipboard. He offers them a shy smile as his companion booms beside them. “Looks like you adopted the entire Seido baseball team too, eh?”

Daichi leads the two teams over, and they stand awkwardly in front of the two adults.

“Sorry, Coach Ukai, but basically, they-”

“Ukai?” interrupts Toujou, with a curious expression on his face. “As in… Ukai Ittetsu? That famous crow-tamer?”

Everyone’s pretty nonplussed at that, including Miyuki. That is, until he remembers the ‘Karasu’ in ‘Karasuno’.

“He’s my gramps,” says this Ukai. He appears to be giving them a lofty once-over, but Miyuki can sense a bit of appreciation there. “You follow volleyball, kid?”

Toujou nods readily. “Yeah, my younger brother plays. He’s joining Date Kogyo next year, but he was thinking of coming to Karasuno because you guys almost made nationals - oh, and you’re one of the favourites to win the tournament this year. After Shiratorizawa and Aoba Johsai, of course. He also mentioned how you guys were fallen crows and a ‘powerhouse of old’. Either way, though, Ukai of Karasuno is famous enough even if you don’t follow volleyball.”

Up until this point, Miyuki hadn’t really thought about Karasuno as a serious sports team like Seido that was gunning for nationals. They looked happy-go-lucky, and even a little ditzy on the surface. But as soon as Toujou had began talking about Karasuno being a fallen powerhouse, he couldn’t help but notice how all of their faces had darkened imperceptibly. Particularly Daichi, Sugawara and Azumane’s.

He guesses that their coach senses the tension as well, because he changes the topic swiftly.

“Dateko, eh? I see. Come join us to eat, anyway. Sawamura tells me you’re a powerhouse school on track to Koshien. How many people are on your team?” For some reason, he shoots his team a knowing look.

“Well, on first-string, twenty,” Jun-san answers a little gruffly. “But overall, I think ninety-four. Right, Tetsu-san?”

“Yeah. Not including the managers or Chris; that makes it a hundred.”

There’s a silence, which Miyuki takes to be them digesting the information. It’s understandable. Seido is a massive team. But the silence drags on past the point of normalcy, and it becomes uncomfortable. Evidently Ryosuke-san feels the same.

“How many are in your team?”

Daichi doesn’t look like he’s going to respond, so Sugawara does for him. “Twelve,” he says ruefully. “Fourteen if you include our managers.”

“On your first string, presumably... What about in total?”

Ryou-san’s smooth tenor voice seems to soar over their heads. Half of the volleyball players look like their eyes are going to pop out.

“We- We don’t have any other strings,” says Daichi shakily after he’s recovered. “This is the whole volleyball team.”

Now, it’s the Seido team’s turn to look flabbergasted. Miyuki’s shocked. They only have twelve players? That’s barely enough to form two full volleyball teams, as far as he knows. Intrasquad practices must be practically useless for them. And assuming they have two players per position, any accidents during matches would be fatal.

“Twelve? But if only half of you aren’t regulars, then what do you do if one of you gets injured or tired, or something? Like, I’m guessing the whole team’s not at the same standard of playing,” Miyuki finds himself saying incredulously. He regrets it a little when he sees the expressions on a few of the players. Not getting to play in matches when there’s only twelve of you must be a whole other type of frustration.

“That… has happened before,” Daichi admits. The rest of the team nod somberly, as if it were a sobering experience. “But I think having a smaller team has its own advantages.”

“Like what, Dai-nii?” says Sawamura, before Miyuki can get a word in edgeways. Usually he’d scold him for interrupting, but he’s actually interested in what Daichi’s going to say.

“For one, you know everyone by name,” Ukai says wryly, answering on Daichi’s behalf. “You’re Daichi’s cousin, right? A southpaw pitcher with moving balls?”

“Hai!”

“How many teammates outside of the first-string do you know?”

Sawamura tilts his head, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well, there’s Kariba! He’s in my year! And then there’s… Watanabe-san!”

“Alright. Anymore?”

  
Sawamura looks visibly stricken at this point, after having named the only two second-string members he’s ever had contact with.

“Um… There’s… Kishima-san?”

He looks back at the rest of his teammates for confirmation, but finds only blank expressions.

“You know, Kishima-senpai! The outfielder!”

The penny drops, and Miyuki rolls his eyes.

“I think you mean Kawashima-senpai, Eijun-kun,” Kominato adds gently. “And he was in first-string until last match.”

“...Oh.”

Before anyone can perform the well-deserved chokehold on Sawamura, the Karasuno coach laughs aloud.

“You see what I mean? Although, I didn’t quite expect it to be _that_ bad. Caring for your teammates and bothering to get to know them is one of the advantages of a small team.”

Sawamura’s face falls. For some reason, Miyuki feels annoyed.

“Hey now. That’s a bit unfair, isn’t it? Our first string team is at least as close as yours. We’re the ones who play anyway, so what’s the difference?”

As soon as he’s said it, he can feel that he’s made a mistake. His own team is glaring daggers at him, and he thinks Tanaka and Nishinoya want to have his head on a plaque or something.

But Coach Ukai doesn’t look irritated.

“Who are you?” he asks mildly.

“Miyuki Kazuya. I play catcher,” he replies, trying to sound breezy. But this coach has the same calculative look in his eye as Coach does when deciding what training programme to give them.

(Usually the worst one.)

“How long have you been on the first string?”

“Since my first year.”

He won’t lie; Miyuki’s perplexed. What does that have to do with anything?

“Oh, but- I meant that all of the first string know each other well. Not just me,” he adds on uselessly.

“I see,” Coach Ukai replies with an unreadable expression on his face. Instead of elaborating, he addresses the team instead. It’s like he’s trying to maximise Miyuki’s confusion. “Everyone, sit down. I think it’s time we ordered something. The meal’s on Daichi.”

“O-oi, Coach?”

“Count it as payback for all the times your kouhai trashed my shop and chased away my customers.”

“That wasn’t me, though!”

“Cap’s responsibility.”

“Coach!”

They push a few tables together so that they can all sit in the same vicinity of the eatery. They’re lucky that the izakaya is so empty, as Hinata loudly exclaims - although, Miyuki isn’t sure whether it’s down to luck or down to the fact that thirty-two sweaty, noisy teenage athletes in dirty kit aren’t exactly the most appealing sight.

After they’ve given their orders to a shaking waitress who looks like she’s in her first year of high school, everyone begins to engage in polite conversation. Somehow, Miyuki’s ended up right next to Hinata, with Sawamura and Kageyama opposite him.

“What positions do you guys play?” Sawamura chirps, instantly breaking the ice.

“Kageyama is a setter! I’m a middle blocker and decoy!”

Miyuki and Sawamura exchange glances of confusion. Noticing this, Hinata elaborates with hand gestures that threaten to knock Miyuki’s glasses clean off.

“The middle blocker shields off the other team’s spikes like _POW_! And- and I also spike stuff like _gwah_ , when Kageyama makes it hit my hand. It’s super awesome! Plus, since I’m the decoy, I get to trick the other team into thinking I’m gonna score, but then _actually_ Asahi-san or Tanaka-senpai comes up from the back like _BAM_! Oh, but, I do still get to score points doing cool stuff like shutouts and feints and quicks and _freak_ quicks and-”

“Oi, dumbass, don’t act like you’re special until you can do it all,” Kageyama says with a scowl, and reaches out to grab Hinata’s head. “Your receiving still sucks. And so does your setting.”

“But why do I even _need_ to know how to set? That’s what you’re there for!”

“You-”

“Um, what’s a setter?” Miyuki interrupts before they can start an all out brawl. “Is that the guy that tosses the ball to the spiker?”

Those blue eyes that had been glaring at Hinata suddenly latch themselves onto him instead. Kageyama’s hard stare is a little unsettling.

“ _No_ ,” Kageyama says with feeling. “The setter is so much more than that. The setter is the one who coordinates plays from the shadows so that the spikers can shine. Do you know why the setter is the coolest position? Yes, the spikers have the most flashy position; the crowds love a quick or an explosive straight, but that’s not possible without good tosses. The setter is the control tower of the team.”

“Argh, Bakageyama! The spiker and setter are _equally_ important! You can’t have a spike with just a setter. You need both! That’s why we’re partners!”

Miyuki’s a little speechless. They’re so… _intense_.

Sawamura doesn’t have that issue, though.

“That kind of sounds like us! Catcher and pitcher, setter and spiker - right, Miyuki?” he says excitedly.

“Miyuki- _senpai_ ,” Miyuki corrects absentmindedly, although he nods.

“What do you mean, Eijun?” asks Hinata, with his eyebrows furrowed. “In volleyball, Kageyama and me both have to, like, handle the ball and judge the situation. I thought the catcher just… catches the ball? I mean, sure, if it’s a fast ball then that would be painful, but the pitcher’s the one doing all the hard work.”

And Miyuki suddenly feels an all too familiar twitch in his eye. He’s about to educate Hinata otherwise, when someone else does it for him.

“Dumbass, didn’t you watch the game? The catcher’s the one giving the signals for the pitcher to follow. Even if the pitcher is the machine doing the work, the catcher’s the one who’s manoeuvering it. He’s got to judge what the pitcher’s condition is and what pitches they can throw best. Like that time against Fukurodani when you were messing up all our freak quicks so I had to give you only normal ones.”

“Did you have to use that example?!” Hinata screeches, bursting out of his seat.

“Yes, because you suck.”

“No I don’t!”

“You do.”

“Don’t!”

Instead of continuing the argument, Kageyama suddenly turns to Miyuki for the first time.

“Was my analogy okay, Miyuki-san?”

Miyuki blinks in surprise. “Oh, yeah. That’s pretty much it. Combine that with reckless southpaw pitchers with no control, though, and the job gets even harder.”

Now it’s Sawamura’s turn to yell out in protest because _‘MIYUKI KAZUYA I SO DO HAVE CONTROL!’_

“Tell that to the four walks you gave up in that match against Seiko~”

“THREE! IT WAS THREE!”

“It was four,” says Kominato, not even looking up from his conversation with the freckled No. 12.

“HARUCCHI-!”

“Erm, your food is ready? Please enjoy?” comes the timid voice of their waitress. The poor girl is carrying a few stacks of dishes that look like they weigh more than she does. Sawamura stands up immediately, loudly offering to help. She looks at him with wide eyes.

“Thank you!” she says in wonder.

Sawamura gives her one of his megawatt grins, and really, it’s no surprise that she’s starstruck because Miyuki knows firsthand how brilliant that smile is. But despite knowing this, Miyuki can’t stop his gut from churning.

The restaurant goes quieter than it’s been since they arrived as everyone digs in - although, both teams have their fair share of messy and noisy eaters. Miyuki discreetly edges himself away from Hinata, who’s eating his ramen like it’s a competitive sport, only to realise that he’s directly in front of Sawamura who is doing the same.

But when Sawamura does it, it’s somehow less gross. At some point, a noodle sticks to his upper lip without Sawamura noticing or wiping it off. Miyuki’s about to make fun of him for it, but instead the thought _‘I want to wipe it off’_ crosses his mind.

Disgusted with himself, he banishes the thought and turns his head to ask Kuramochi what time Tetsu-san said they had to finish. In doing so, he notices Kageyama’s gaze lingering on him. It’s quite unsettling, particularly since Kageyama doesn’t _stop_ once Miyuki notices. Is there something on his face? He wipes it with his sleeve a little self-consciously, and pretends to ignore Kageyama’s stare for the rest of the meal.

\---

They spend about an hour and a half in the izakaya overall. The food is ridiculously good. It’s no surprise when Takeda-sensei turns away from Kawakami for a second and calls the waitress over, asking her to give their compliments to the chef for his recipe.

What _is_ a surprise is that she blushes scarlet before admitting in a tiny voice that it’s her own recipe, and that she’s actually the unofficial head chef.

“That’s amazing, Tadokoro-san! My ramen was super tasty!” exclaims Sawamura. He’s leaning forward in his seat to catch her name on the blue name tag adorning her apron. This also has the effect of putting their faces in very close proximity. Tadokoro goes impossibly redder.

“Thank you! My friend from school taught the recipe to me, actually. He’ll be really happy to hear that you liked it. I hope I did it justice!”

“Seriously, your cooking is _amazing_! I really liked the way you made the duck crispy, but also juicy, and…”

Miyuki forcefully turns away from the conversation they’ve digressed into, knowing that he’s likely got his feelings on his face for everyone to see.

He _knows_ how dazzling Sawamura is. How could he not? And he deserves someone good for him. This Tadokoro looks sweet, and gentle, and pretty.

They really do look good together.

Miyuki has always known that Sawamura is so far out of his league that he might as well not even bother trying. But even so, seeing him chatting to Tadokoro so easily still leaves a terrible taste in his mouth that has nothing to do with the admittedly delicious food.

Miyuki can’t offer Sawamura what Tadokoro can, anyway. He’s not sweet, or gentle, or pretty. He just has a catching mitt, a sharp tongue, and an infatuation that’s dangerously near the point of obsession - no, that’s _not_ true. He’s not jealous of Tadokoro at all.

_He’s not._

Finally, after what feels like hours, Daichi fumbles with all the money that’s been thrust at him and pays Tadokoro for the food. She bows respectfully and leaves, so finally Miyuki feels like he can breathe.

“Sawamura, about your change-up, I-”

“Well, look at you, Sawamura! You have _game_ , man!” says Jun-san, thumping Sawamura on the back. Sawamura chokes a little on the water he’s drinking, and completely ignores Miyuki in favour of waving his hands wildly at Isashiki.

“No, Jun-senpai, that’s not right.”

Before he can finish, Kuramochi jumps in. “Sawamura, you bastard! Getting girls before your senpai!”

Even Karasuno joins in.

“Oi, Sawamura-kun, teach me how,” begs Tanaka. “Teach me your ways of seducing young maidens!”

“That’s perverted, Tanaka-senpai!”

“Bro, I thought Kiyoko-san was the only one for us!”

But it’s Ryo-senpai who hammers the final nail into Miyuki’s heart. He looks over at Miyuki first _(searchingly, knowingly)_ before addressing Sawamura.

“Sawamura.”

Sawamura turns to look at him.

“Do you actually like her?”

Miyuki scrapes his chair back immediately, and stands up, ignoring the looks of surprise around him. He doesn’t want to know the answer, doesn’t want to see an affirmative come out of Sawamura’s mouth, doesn’t want his fears being solidified.

He starts walking away from the table, walking _anywhere_ except here. He hears someone ask where he’s going, so he yells “Bathroom!” jauntily over his shoulder but doesn’t stop moving.

Miyuki’s not really focusing on where his feet are taking him, so he’s moderately impressed that he actually managed to find the men’s toilets. Whether he’ll be able to find his way back is a different question that he’ll answer later. Instead, he ducks in quickly, thankful that there’s nobody else there.

For lack of anything to do, he quickly rinses his face with water, hoping that the icy-cold splashes will help him get a grip on himself. Miyuki makes the mistake of looking at the mirror above the sinks before properly drying his face again, and he just kind of ends up staring at himself.

Tousled chestnut hair. Plain, mud-brown eyes. High cheekbones that now have water droplets clinging to them. Thin lips.

Miyuki doesn’t think he’s particularly attractive. But then, he wouldn’t say he’s _not_ attractive either. The number of confessions from girls he gets each week are a testimony to it; particularly given that he doesn’t try and hide the fact that he likes boys.

He wonders if Sawamura is attracted to boys at all.

_Does he find Miyuki attractive?_

Before he can wander down _that_ well-trodden path, the door to the bathroom slams open. Miyuki turns to see who it is. And he really shouldn’t be surprised at this point.

It’s Kageyama Tobio.

Miyuki prepares an awkward half-smile for him so he can sidle out of the bathroom and get back to the group (who have hopefully changed topic), but he never gets to use it.

“Um. Are you, well. Are you okay?”

Miyuki kind of feels touched, and kind of wants to drag a hand down his face at this well-meaning but hopelessly delivered sentiment. He walks to the door, trying not to make it too obvious that he’s running away.

“I’m fine. Anyway, I-”

“Sawamura doesn’t like Tadokoro. They aren’t going to date.”

Miyuki should keep walking. He should tell Kageyama that he couldn’t care less who Sawamura chooses to date or not.

Miyuki pauses, with his hand on the doorknob.

“How are you so sure?”

“Tadokoro has a boyfriend anyway,” Kageyama says simply. “When we were coming in, I saw an Italian boy with blond hair kissing her. Sawamura admitted that he didn’t like her as well, right after you left. And she wasn’t the one he was staring at during dinner.”

Miyuki’s not an idiot. He _knows_ what Kageyama’s implying. He also knows that Kageyama could just be trying to make him feel better.

Maybe it’s the fact that he says these things almost robotically. Or it could be because they barely know each other, so cheering Miyuki up wouldn’t be of any benefit to him.

But Miyuki believes him. And he relaxes.

“Oh, okay. Why are you telling me this?”

He’s expecting Kageyama to outright admit what Miyuki himself has been loath to say aloud. That Miyuki was totally, unfathomably jealous of Tadokoro. That he was staring at Sawamura for the whole meal. That he’s in love with Sawamura.

Kageyama doesn’t say anything.

The silence stretches out, and they can both hear the tap dripping slowly in the background. Eventually, it drives Miyuki up the wall - both the silence and the tap. Just as he reaches out to turn it off, Kageyama speaks.

“Do you remember what Coach Ukai said? About the advantages of a smaller team?”

How could he forget?

“Yeah. Of course. Your coach really isn’t one for giving up anything outright, is he?”

“No,” Kageyama responds to the rhetorical jibe in all seriousness. He takes in a breath. “I think what he said is true. Being on a smaller team means…”

Miyuki leans in to catch his final words.

“... Actually, never mind.”

Kageyama’s blue eyes are grey in this light, and he looks extremely self-conscious. Miyuki would bet his bat that whatever he was about to say wasn’t about sports.

Miyuki turns away from the door and looks Kageyama in the eye. There it is - that feeling, again. It feels like this awkward, unapproachable first-year has a lot in common with him. Even though that’s ridiculous. Obviously.

He opens his mouth - to say _something_ , although he doesn’t quite know what - before the door bangs open again.

Hitting Miyuki in the back of the head and knocking him to the cold, tiled floor.

“Oi, Kageyama, everyone’s waiting! And Eijun wants to know if you know where - Miyuki-san? Why are you on the ground?”

Miyuki squints up at the upside-down figure standing over him. That’s Hinata’s voice, he thinks. And that’s definitely his absurdly orange hair. Even without his glasses on, Miyuki can’t miss it.

Speaking of his glasses… Miyuki can see them an inch away from his fingertips. Right in front of the door. He groans a little to himself as he rolls over - just his luck to land on his injured side - and Hinata mistakes it for a groan asking for help. And bounds over.

Miyuki can see it happening in slow motion. His eyes widen as Hinata leaps (impossibly high) and lands…

_CRACK._

… On his glasses.

“W-whoops?” says Hinata, more hesitantly than Miyuki has ever seen from him. He rubs the nape of his neck gingerly, and a look of anguish crosses his face.

Kageyama just rolls his eyes and pushes Hinata aside, opting to help Miyuki sit up. His vision is blurry and he feels an intense pressure in his head. Miyuki touches the back of his head dazedly, and his fingers come back sticky with blood.

At the sight of the blood, Hinata’s face blanches.

“I-I’ll go get some help! I’m sorry! Miyuki-san!”

After a few more unintelligible squeaks, he runs off; almost skids over the broken glass pieces in his haste.

“That total dumbass,” Kageyama mutters as he watches Hinata leave. Miyuki can’t help noticing the small, endeared smile that crosses his face nonetheless. Aside from being slightly perturbed that Kageyama finds Hinata bodily injuring Miyuki cute, he feels a wave of recognition for that smile. It’s the same one he gives to Sawamura whenever he does something dumb (so, quite a lot).

“Kageyama, can you give me a hand? Watch the glass.”

Kageyama jolts as if he’s forgotten that Miyuki was on the ground in the first place. “Oh yeah. Sorry, um. Here.”

Miyuki holds in a wince as Kageyama yanks him to his feet with all the grace of a construction worker.

“Thanks a lot for helping me up so gently,” Miyuki says sarcastically. There’s no reply. Miyuki remembers that Kageyama isn’t actually one of his kouhai, and vaguely wonders if he crossed a line or something. There’s an apology on the tip of his tongue when Kageyama smiles, a little bittersweetly. 

Noticing Miyuki’s questioning look, Kageyama turns away. When he speaks, his voice is soft and pensive.

“You… really remind me of one of my old senpai.”

“I see,” Miyuki says through teeth bared in a grin (or grimace?). His head is actually pounding quite a lot right now from the combination of banging it on the floor and not having his glasses. He can already feel a migraine coming.

“Miyuki-san, are you alright to stand up and walk? Hinata gets… distracted easily. It might be a while before he actually tells people what’s wrong.”

“...Oh. Yeah, I can walk, though I can’t promise it’ll be in a straight line. Let me lean on you?”

It’s a bit awkward, but thankfully the height difference isn’t too painful. They hobble along the corridor slowly (luckily Kageyama knows the way) until they reach the main eating area where Hinata looks to be telling a dramatic recollection.

“Senpai! Are you alright?” Sawamura says. He pushes his way out of the throng urgently to stand directly in front of Miyuki. “We let you out of our sight for two minutes and you get concussed - and you broke your glasses as well?”

Sawamura’s frowning and his cheeks are puffed out in mock anger, but Miyuki can hear the genuine worry underneath. He can’t help but smile, and looks away. Sawamura is honestly too adorable for his own good sometimes.

And he called him _senpai_ voluntarily. Miyuki isn’t sure if he’ll ever know why he likes the sound of the word in Sawamura’s voice so much. He also isn’t sure if his heart will ever stop skipping a beat at it.

“Don’t worry, Sawamura. I’m fine. I don’t think I’m concussed.” He’s telling the truth. His dizziness left him as he was walking down the corridor, and even the bleeding has stopped. All that’s left is a bit of a headache behind his eyes, but Miyuki was always prone to migraines anyway. He’ll live.

Takeda walks forward, and guides Miyuki to a chair before squatting in front of him. It’s a bit overwhelming, but his smile is reassuring enough. “Hi, Miyuki-kun. I’m Takeda-sensei; don’t worry, I know first aid. Can you answer a few questions for me?”

“Um, yeah. Sure,” Miyuki manages.

Takeda proceeds to ask the usual - what his name is, his parents’ names, his team. He even gets Miyuki to stand up and walk in a straight line, which Miyuki does.

Finally, Takeda stands up and smiles at the Seido team, who are all shifting on their feet (dare he say it) worriedly.

_Awww._

“He’s fine. I think his only problem is that he doesn’t have his glasses - considering that his eyesight is so bad, though, that might be why he has a headache. Miyuki-kun, do you have any painkillers?”

Miyuki is about to nod, before remembering that-

“... No, Chris-senpai has them. Chris-senpai has the whole team’s medication.”

“Don’t worry,” says Sugawara as he pulls something out of his bag. “I’ve got plenty to spare. Do you have any allergies?”

“Nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drugs,” Miyuki says apologetically. “I can’t take Ibuprofen. It’s alright, really. I’m fine.”

Sugawara stares at him for a minute before digging back into his bag and pulling out three different painkiller alternatives that don’t contain NSAIDs.

“Don’t underestimate me, Miyuki-kun,” he says with a wicked grin that doesn’t match his angelic appearance. “Paracetamol is fine, isn’t it?”

Reading Miyuki’s surprise, Sugawara gestures with a thumb to the blond No. 7 hovering behind him. “Kinoshita’s also allergic to them.”

Miyuki nods, accepting this as an explanation.

_Wait, he knows the allergies of all his teammates? And has appropriate supplies for them all?_

He doesn’t voice his disbelief aloud, though, and waits patiently until Sugawara pops him two pills and Coach Ukai passes him a glass of water.

“Drink up, catcher,” he says with a grin. “Your team have been telling me all about you. Did you fall on the side you injured, by any chance?                                                    

Miyuki starts.

_How did he-_

“It’s all in the gait,” says the coach. “You’re heavily favouring your other side. How bad? Scale of one to ten?”

Miyuki pretends to think it over, but he knows the answer he needs to give if he wants to play in the next match.

“Four.”

“Liar,” says Kuramochi not even a second later. “Don’t you even dare try and put anything over us. I’ve had two years of dealing with your misplaced sense of duty. Tell him the truth, Bakayuki.”

Miyuki scowls at Kuramochi, before relenting. “Just the pain in my side, or in general?”

“Pain in your head, then side, then in general,” Coach Ukai replies easily.

“Well… in my head, I’ve got to say eight,” he admits. The pounding hasn’t gone down much, if at all. “In my side, maybe a six? And in general, well…”

_Does my heart count?_

“I think two or three. I’m fine, honestly.”

“Really?” says Ukai with a look of doubt on his face. Miyuki has to wave both of his hands in protest. He can’t stop himself from marvelling at how much these teachers care about a random kid from another team.

He’s not even sure whether his dad would care as much.

“ _Really_ ,” he says as convincingly as he can, before pointedly turning towards Tetsu-san. “Captain, don’t we have to go now?”

“Right, yeah,” says Tetsu-san. But he has a look on his face that Miyuki can’t quite decipher, and turns to address the team.

“So, I spoke to Coach on the phone. He was, as you might have guessed, furious. We’re doing practice without bats or balls for all of next week.”

The whole team groans as a collective.

(Miyuki hears someone whisper “He sounds like a nightmare version of Coach Ukai Senior - no, Coach _Washijou_ ”.)

“But also, the bus won’t be able to come get us. It’s on a schedule, apparently, and they can’t afford to take people who miss the bus. We’ll be walking up to Seido. Coach sent directions, and it’s around an hour and a half. And we’re not allowed to get a train or a taxi on the way.”

More groans follow. The Karasuno team are divided between looking absolutely horrified or totally entertained by Seido’s suffering. Before the team can begin properly grumbling, Tetsu-san holds up a hand, and turns directly to Miyuki this time.

“Miyuki. Takeda-san told Coach about your injury. You’re not playing in the next match, and he’s booked you an appointment with the doctor for nine a.m tomorrow.”

Miyuki swears under his breath.

_Great._

“On the bright side, though, Coach agrees that you shouldn’t be walking home. You’re allowed to get the train back.”

Even though he’d gladly walk back ten times if it meant he could play, Miyuki still smirks. Who’s he to scoff at getting privileges? The team is staring at him enviously.

“Oh, right, and you need one person to accompany you on the train. Coach doesn’t want you to faint on the way, or something. Not allowed to be a third year, because Coach blames us for missing the bus.”

When they hear the possibility of not having to undertake a one and a half hour journey home by foot, it’s only natural that the majority of the Seido team - except the third years, who are still groaning - gravitate towards him like moths to a light bulb. If moths could beg.

“Hmmm, what a tough decision,” he says, purposefully coy. He balances his chin on a finger for good measure and lets a smile creep across his face. After he’s decided that his team has been left in agony for long enough, he lets his eyes dart amongst them, before picking out Sawamura.

“I pick Bakamura.”

_Duh._

“MIYUKI KAZUYA! I wanted to run all the way to Seido! Even without my trusty tyre, it would have been good training. Are you trying to sabotage my pitching? I won’t let you!”

Miyuki’s suddenly very aware of the fact that they are _still_ somehow in the izakaya, and have very much overstayed their welcome, judging from the looks the other patrons are giving them after Sawamura’s exclamation. It also doesn’t help that the whole team is throwing Sawamura dirty looks now and Kuramochi looks like he’s going to pounce on him.

Daichi seems to realise too, since he’s not caught up in the battle of becoming Miyuki’s… companion? Accompanist? Anyway, Daichi somehow manages to single handedly usher both of their teams out of the izakaya (Miyuki doesn’t miss Tadokoro’s exhale of relief) and onto the pavement of Tokyo outside. The izakaya doesn’t have much rest, though, since players from both teams dash back inside immediately to relieve themselves.

Miyuki doesn’t fancy fighting through that crowd for the men’s bathroom, so instead he turns his head to look for Sawamura and catches a condescending voice instead.

“Tch. You two can’t even read a map? It’s no wonder you failed all your exams. Pathetic.”

Miyuki raises both eyebrows at the harsh words and whistles under his breath. The unenthusiastic, blond No. 11 looks to be seriously chewing out Kageyama and Hinata as all three pore over a flashily emblazoned travel guide. No. 11 is sitting on the brick wall in front of the inn showing them the guide, while Kageyama and Hinata are standing in front of him. They look absolutely clueless.

_They actually failed all their exams?_

Hinata and Sawamura are… more similar than he thought, then. But Kageyama failing his exams is a surprise. He seemed pretty smart. Miyuki casts a speculative look over him - more precisely, his hoodie that says ‘Setter Soul’, the volleyball keychains on his sports bag and the volleyball-shaped bulge in said bag.

… Yeah, okay maybe Kageyama being a sports idiot isn’t too unexpected.

“Why is Tokyo so big?!” exclaims Hinata with all the fervour of a five year old. He thrusts a finger at the map, and Miyuki’s surprised it doesn’t rip in two. “If the station’s there, but the bus stop is _there_ how the heck do we get there?”

“It’s easy, dumbass,” says Kageyama.“We just need to find the Tokyo Tower. We passed it on the way from the station.”

“Oh yeah! I remember now. We’ll be fine, Tsukishima!”

Now _that_ makes Miyuki tilt his head in confusion. Tokyo Tower? That’s definitely not on the way.

Tsukishima huffs, and looks away from the duo with an eye roll.

“That was just a regular communications pylon.”

“... Oh.”

“Are you- are you telling me you thought a telephone pylon was the- the Tokyo Tower?” Miyuki says, although he can barely speak through his laughter. He can literally feel tears coming to his eyes.

It’s only when all three of them turn to look at him that he remembers that he was technically eavesdropping.

Oops.

“N-no!” says Hinata defensively. “I mean, okay maybe a bit. But we realised!”

“Yeah, _after_ I told you. You know what, tell the coach I give up. You guys can end up in Osaka for all I care,” Tsukishima says exasperatedly, before stalking off towards Kominato and No. 12.

Hinata and Kageyama watch him go forlornly.

“Argh, if only Yachi-san was here! _She_ would help us!” wails Hinata. “I don’t want to go to Osaka! I heard they have drug rings there - and gangsters.”

Kageyama nods solemnly. “They don’t have any good high-school volleyball teams.”

Miyuki’s slightly concerned (but mainly amused) about where their priorities lie.

“Why’re you trying to get to the station? I thought you guys were going to go to Nekoma High?”

They’ve played Nekoma’s baseball team a few times before (read: crushed them). Miyuki doesn’t know how strong their volleyball team is, but he does remember seeing quite a lot of volleyball gyms. He also remembers Nekoma High as being in the opposite direction of the station.

As soon as he asks the question, Kageyama’s scowl deepens impossibly more, and Hinata’s face falls sorrowfully.

“The team are, but we failed some exams, so we need to go back to Karasuno to do the retake. It wasn’t even our fault though! I filled in all the answers off by one, and Yachi said that I would have got most of them right if I hadn’t! And Kageyama, well… okay, he’s just stupid.”

“Oi! Shut up, dumbass. At least I’m not stupid in volleyball, too, like you. Anyway, you filled the answers off by one for _one_ subject; that doesn’t explain how you failed the other five!”

“Other _four_. I passed Maths!”

“I’m in your Maths class, idiot. You got 38.”

“That’s basically a pass! And at least I got more than you, Mr. 22!”

“So,” says Miyuki, raising his voice so he can be heard over their bickering, “Does that mean you’re getting the train now?”

“Yeah,” Kageyama mutters. “If we can find where it is.”

“I mean, Sawamura and I are getting the train as well. You crows could fly home with us,” Miyuki suggests with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. “I don’t mind babysitting a couple more.”

Kageyama looks a little affronted at being indirectly called a baby, but Hinata evidently doesn’t notice or doesn’t care as he perks up like a puppy.

“Really?! Whoa! Thanks, Miyuki-san!” he says (or, well, shouts) while bouncing up and down. “WE’LL BE IN YOUR CARE!”

Yeah, this is definitely the kid he saw in the stands. It’s only after Kageyama’s hand settles atop his head that he seems to calm down and even leans into the contact. It’s kind of sweet.

Hinata tugs them both into a bow, and Miyuki’s left feeling a bit awkward after a few minutes of this.

“You- you guys can get up now,” he says weakly.

“Okay! Let me go tell Coach Ukai,” Hinata says brightly. “Kageyama, come with me!” And Kageyama, who is much more whipped than Miyuki had expected, follows him demurely. It’s pretty funny, watching the 180cm plus setter being so… _meek_.

“What are you smiling at now, you tanuki!” accuses Sawamura from behind his shoulder. Miyuki shivers involuntarily as he feels Sawamura’s warm breath on the shell of his ear.

 _What the_ fuck _Miyuki_?

“Me? I’m just watching Ryousuke-senpai and Sugawara-san stare each other down. I’d hate to get between whatever mind games they’re doing,” he says jauntily, trying to sound nonchalant as ever. The closeness between them is a bit weird now that Sawamura’s already spoken, so he spins around and takes a few steps back for good measure.

Sawamura clucks his tongue at him like a mother hen. “Ha, don’t lie to me. You’d be at the centre of it,” he grumbles. Miyuki’s expecting him to go on a tangent about his mind games, but Sawamura uncharacteristically shuts up. He looks like he’s mulling over something, which is even weirder.

“Hey, Miyuki? There’s actually something I wanted to ask you…” he says nervously, twisting his fingers together. “I mean, you’re a second-year. And you’re not, you know, hideous. Girls like you because they don’t know your terrible personality, so you probably know about lur- loh-”

He takes a deep breath, as if he’s steadying himself. His face is totally unreadable. This isn’t the same Sawamura that wears his heart on his sleeve.

“Love.”

“What is it?” Miyuki thinks he says, even though he can’t hear himself past the blood roaring through his ears.

Sawamura looks completely torn. His eyes are darting everywhere except for Miyuki, and he’s clasping and unclasping his hands so quickly that Miyuki’s worried he’ll sprain his pitching wrist.

“Do you think Shouyou and Kageyama-kun like each other?” he blurts out at last. Miyuki squashes down the surprise and disappointment welling up in his chest, and pretends to think about it. The only thing consoling him is how Sawamura also looks surprised at his own words.

“I mean, neither of us know either of them that well,” Miyuki replies, lifting a shoulder. “Even if it does kind of seem that way. I’m pretty sure Kageyama likes Hinata, but I have no clue if it’s mutual or not. Why are you asking?”                                                                                                                                                                                                            

He tries to tack that last bit on as fluidly as he can, but it’s not his best. It proves useless anyway, as Sawamura totally ignores him.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I was just curious, I guess.”

Part of Miyuki wants to just let this go and return to his normal, uncomplicated relationship with Sawamura, where the only thing the pitcher ever asked of him was how to adjust his grip. Sawamura’s clearly uncomfortable. It would be the kind, senpai-like thing to do.

The other part of him which sounds suspiciously like Kuramochi tells him that if he misses this opening he’d be stupid. It tells him to urge Sawamura on, because this is the only chance he’s going to have.

Miyuki succumbs to it. He’s never been the greatest senpai anyway.

“What do you mean by curious, hmm? You in love with anyone?”

As soon as he says it, he has to physically restrain himself from cringing at himself by pinching his thigh. The pinched tone, the crack in the middle of the sentence, the fact that he ended up saying it totally seriously instead of with the joking lilt he’d anticipated... Sawamura doesn’t even have to be a Ryosuke-senpai or Chris-senpai to read between the lines.

“N-No! I was just wondering!” Sawamura replies defensively, practically leaping back from Miyuki in his haste to deny. His cheeks are tinted red, and he’s too busy grappling with his embarrassment to give Miyuki’s l ~~ove confession~~  more or less throwaway statement a second thought.

He thanks whatever gods above him made the guy he’s confessing to the only person on the planet who can’t read subtext. At all.

“Ah, gotcha~” Miyuki drawls, feeling slightly more on the right wavelength now that Sawamura’s shown no indication of realising Miyuki’s feelings.

Then, there’s a moment of silence. It’s… awkward. Miyuki’s never experienced this with Sawamura before, by virtue of his lack of shame, and Sawamura’s lack of self-awareness.

Thankfully, it’s soon broken when Hinata comes dashing back to them, with Kageyama following him at a more sedate pace.

“Guys! Everyone’s going now; come say bye to the teams! Oh, and Coach Ukai seemed pretty relieved that you guys are escorting us to the station. We’ll be in your care!”

Hinata races off in the direction of the two teams near the end of the road. Kageyama races him there, and it reminds Miyuki a lot of his own pitchers’ racing habits. Miyuki follows them, with Sawamura's words ringing in his head. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NB: There's some violent scenes in this chapter. Nothing graphic or explicit, but just be warned if it's not your thing. 
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy! If you're confused as to why there's a cat cafe, don't worry. There is no logical reason whatsoever for them to be in a cat cafe. The only reason they are in a cat cafe now is because I want to see Miyuki in a cat cafe. Welcome to the pure, unadulterated chaos that is my mind.

“Did you see Tanaka-senpai exchanging numbers with that guy who punched him in the face?” Hinata asks excitedly, skipping down the sidewalk. His shoes make a squeaking sound every time he lands on the concrete. “It was like that time with Taketora-san at Nekoma because Kiyoko-senpai-” 

“Oi, Hinata, you’re going to bounce off the pavement,” Kageyama interjects roughly, before pulling him back by grabbing his arm. Except he doesn’t let go of his arm until Hinata impatiently wriggles out of his grasp, and he’s left staring at his hand in alarm. 

Okay, this pining is getting a bit painful to watch now. 

They’re on the way to the station. Miyuki’s extremely glad that Sawamura, for all his other idiotic faults, is actually pretty good at finding his way around. Without his glasses on to check the volleyball duo’s map-reading skills, he dreads what they’d do without him. 

Of course, he’ll never admit that in a million years. 

“Hey now, you shouldn’t gossip about your senpai like that,” Miyuki tuts. “You don’t get how hard it is to be a senpai until you actually become one. I feel kind of bad about all the stuff I said to my senpai, thinking about it.” 

“Well, you should!” Sawamura declares pompously, before getting right up into Miyuki’s face. His eyelashes are ridiculously long. “Senpai should be respected, and admired! And so should kouhai! You should apologise for how often you tease me, Miyuki-senpai.” 

“Oh, really?” he challenges with a smirk, and nudges Sawamura forward with his hip before he does something stupid like count his eyelashes. “Sorry, is this is coming from the guy who called Azuma-senpai chubby before he was even a member? And you never show me any respect.” 

“If you were a better senpai, then maybe I would! If you were more like Chris-senpai-”

“I hate the senpai-kouhai dynamic,” Kageyama interrupts abruptly. The change in tone is jarring, and everyone turns to look at him. 

The expression on his face is closed-off, and he’s scrunching up the hem of his uniform in one hand. The frown he wears looks different to the resting scowl Miyuki’s become acquainted to - this one is quivering. His eyes are fixed on the pavement beneath his feet resolutely. 

Sawamura isn’t even trying to hide his gaping mouth at Kageyama’s admission, transparent as he is. Miyuki’s also surprised, but he hides it better. And then he remembers.

“You… really remind me of one of my old senpai.” 

He can see Sawamura gathering up energy - undoubtedly to forcefully exclaim the importance of good senpai (Miyuki has been subject to this speech several times, which is ironic to say the least) and elbows him discreetly in the ribs to make him shut up. It works, although he gets betrayed puppy eyes in return. 

“I can see the station!” Hinata crows suddenly, obviously sensing the tension in the air. The change in topic should be jarring, but he somehow pulls it off. “Kageyama! Race you! It’s 482 wins to you, and 478 to me, right?” 

Kageyama physically shakes off whatever he’d been thinking about - like a dog, Miyuki’s mind supplies - and turns his intense glare on Hinata. 

“Idiot! It’s 484 to me and 478 to you - we raced on the way to the izakaya and on the way from the stadium. I won both times. Obviously.” 

“What?! What’s that supposed to mean? O-Oi! FALSE START!” 

Miyuki and Sawamura are left in the dust, watching them race each other. 

“How long do you think it’ll take them to realise that they’re going in the wrong direction?” 

“I don’t think they will.” 

\---

“Cancelled?! What do you mean, cancelled?” 

“SIR, WE MOST KINDLY BEQUEST THAT YOU RECONSIDER THIS-” 

Miyuki and Kageyama hover awkwardly a few yards behind Hinata and Sawamura, who appear to be trying to get the ticket officer to summon the (cancelled) train by pleading with him semi-pathetically. The ticket guy doesn’t look too fazed, but Miyuki thinks they’ll all get thrown out of the station by the queue of angry people behind them before he can call security.

“Hey now,” he says smoothly, sliding between the booth and Hinata and Sawamura. The digital board flashing ‘STATUS: CANCELLED’ glows menacingly above him in orange lettering. “Hinata, Sawamura, let’s go. It’s not his fault. You’re holding the line up.” 

Hinata acquiesces, and flounces over towards Kageyama, muttering something about fate being against them. Sawamura does not move. 

“Miyuki! All ! The trains! Are! Cancelled!” 

He pushes himself up into Miyuki’s space, nearly toppling over a small five year old who looks a lot like Ochiai’s daughter. She scowls up at him, but Sawamura’s too busy glaring at Miyuki and jabbing a finger into his chest to notice. 

“We can’t get back to Seido! And Kageyama and Shouyou can’t go home to Miyagi! I promised Dai-nii we’d let them get home safely, Miyuki, I promised!” 

Sawamura’s in a real frenzy, with wild eyes that are begging and defiant at the same time. He looks like he’s on the verge of tears. 

“I’m aware,” Miyuki says weakly. “But you’re holding up the whole line, Bakamura. Come with me.” This time, Miyuki grabs Sawamura’s sleeve. He doesn’t trust him to follow submissively.

Miyuki turns around in a way he thinks has finality, since Sawamura can’t possibly be stupidly optimistic enough to still think that the ticket officer can do anything, and surely he’s not totally immune to the icy glares which are now all fixed on him, right? 

But Sawamura’s nothing if not obnoxiously stubborn, so he tries again to break free of Miyuki’s grip and turn back to the officer despite Miyuki’s obvious disapproval and-

Well. 

Miyuki sees red. 

He stops Sawamura in his tracks by slamming an arm either side of him, essentially caging him against the wall. He relishes the few centimetres he has against him, and leans in closely. Miyuki can vaguely feel dozens of pairs of eye turning on him now, so he makes sure to lower his voice, and speaks slowly and coolly so it will actually stick in Sawamura’s thick head. 

“You need to be quiet. Stop causing trouble. We’ll get to Seido, and Kageyama and Hinata will go to Miyagi. The next train is in two hours. We can scope out a ramen place, call Coach and come back here before you get us kicked out. Alright?” 

He pauses to glance at Sawamura and see if he got the message. Irritatingly, Sawamura doesn’t seem to be listening. His cheeks are red - out of embarrassment? - and his gaze is darting everywhere except for at Miyuki. 

And Miyuki, well. Some primal part of him is screaming at him to get Sawamura’s attention again. 

So he does. 

“Eijun,” he growls, clutching the collar of Sawmura’s compression shirt to pull him towards him roughly. Miyuki runs a tongue over his lips and swallows. His throat suddenly feels very dry. “Do you understand?” 

This time, Sawamura looks right at him. Miyuki finds himself being the one to lose concentration as he realises that he actually… hasn’t seen this expression on Sawamura’s face before. 

He’s gone Kominato-hitting-a-home-run red, and his eyes are wider than Miyuki thought possible. His breathing rate seems to have quickened, but at least his eyes aren’t darting about everywhere. In fact… they’re raking up and down Miyuki’s face almost searchingly. 

Figuring that his words came out a little too harshly, Miyuki tries to amend it by forcing the scenario back to their usual teasing. 

“C’mon, don’t you want to be a good kouhai for me?” 

He’s fully expecting Sawamura to leap up in outrage. Yell at him. Even try and lift him up by the shirt as he’s so fond of doing. Anything except blush and stare at him like some maiden in a shoujo manga, or something. Whatever it is, it’s making Miyuki feel like his insides are in a tumble dryer. 

But instead, Sawamura goes even redder and squeaks. It’s a sound Miyuki’s never heard from before. 

Miyuki furrows his brow, and loosens his grip on Sawamura’s shirt. Sawamura seizes the opportunity to dash out from under him, and runs. Miyuki’s ready to chase him away from that poor ticket officer, but he’s not running in that direction.  

Instead, Sawamura yells something unintelligibly over his shoulder, before sprinting away faster than Miyuki’s ever seen him do in practice. The queue of people who had been held up by him follow him with their eyes too for a second, before the hustle and bustle of the station returns like he was never there. 

Well. Talk about mixed messages. 

Confused, Miyuki walks over to where Kageyama and Hinata are standing underneath the departure boards. They look oddly subdued, and Miyuki has a flash of panic when he realises that maybe, to anyone else, it looks like he was bullying Sawamura. Even though it’s nothing but friendly banter. 

Even though Miyuki wishes it could be something more. 

“Did either of you catch where he said he’s going?” he asks, forcing his tone to be mild. 

Neither of them will look him in the eye either. It’s a little agonizing, and very infuriating. 

Eventually, Hinata looks up at him, although his lips are pursed. “He said he was going to the bathroom, I think.” 

“Oh. Okay. He just went before we left the izakaya, though?” 

Miyuki knows this because he’s the one who forced Sawamura to go before they left. God knows how many times they’ve had to stop the bus because of Sawamura’s inability to check his bladder. 

“I… don’t think that’s why he went to the bathroom.”

This time, it’s Kageyama who speaks. His voice is a little timid, and he’s resilient in refusing to look Miyuki in the eye. 

“What do you mean? Is he ill?” Miyuki knows a bit of impatience has leaked into his throat, but he can’t help it. The whole encounter with Sawamura left a different taste in his mouth than usual, and he doesn’t entirely understand it. 

“Miyuki-san… do you not know what kabedon is?” Hinata says delicately, all the while staring at his thumbs like they’re the most interesting things in the world. 

Miyuki is still perplexed. “Some anime thing?”  

There’s a silence. It drags on for much, much too long, to the point where Miyuki’s literally gritting his teeth, until Hinata and Kageyama both burst into laughter spontaneously. Hinata’s laughter is a snorting, giggly thing. He covers his mouth with both hands, like he’s trying to squash it back in. Kageyama’s is more of a guffaw. 

Miyuki’s not amused. 

“What is it? Why should I care about kabedon? Where’s Eijun?”  

Thankfully, they both stop immediately, and Hinata clears his throat. 

“Um… so, kabedon is when you push someone against a wall. It’s a romance thing in shoujo manga?” 

Kageyama continues for him, oblivious to the dawning realisation Miyuki is getting.

“You called him by his first name, too. And your voice was lower. I think Sawamura was a bit overwhelmed, which is why he ran off.” 

“Overwhelmed is not the word I would use!” 

Miyuki barely hears Hinata’s gleeful trill as his mind goes through a fast-track replay without his consent. 

Pushing Sawamura against the wall. Caging him in with a hand on either side. Grabbing his shirt and leaning in. Speaking roughly. Telling him to be a good kouhai. 

Miyuki swears, and absentmindedly sits down on the bench. 

“Well, should I go get him?” he finally asks, running a hand through his hair. “Do I apologise, or…?” 

Hinata shakes his head vigorously, making an X sign with his hands for good measure. Miyuki can’t help but follow his shockingly orange hair as it sways back and forth in his enthusiasm before Hinata decides to plonk himself on the bench next to him. 

“Don’t try and talk to him now,” Hinata says with an air of feigned wisdom. “Just don’t acknowledge what happened until he wants to talk about it.” 

Miyuki looks dubiously towards Kageyama, who is still standing and whose mouth is in a straight line. Kageyama’s spared a response, though, since Sawamura is bounding towards them from behind him. 

“Right! Let’s go find somewhere good to sit for two hours!” he says brightly, practically thrumming with energy. In true Sawamura fashion, his former embarrassment seems to have rolled away like water from the back of a duck. 

Even so, Miyuki can’t help but to keep looking at his face searchingly to make sure he’s alright. Just as he’s mentally mapping out and analysing every crease between Sawamura’s eyebrows, Sawamura looks right at him. His gaze is like a lion’s: fierce, daring and inexplicably feral - there’s a burning warmth in them. It’s the gaze he commandeers with power and focus on the mound. 

Miyuki can’t help but laugh under his breath with relief when Sawamura looks away. 

As if he’d suddenly act like a shrinking violet. 

“MIYUKI KAZUYA! Let’s go!” Sawamura yells in his face. Miyuki grins. 

“Quieten down, Bakumura. Let’s go, Kageyama, Hinata.” 

Kageyama and Hinata immediately take that as a cue to race towards the nearest exit, and for some godforsaken reason incomprehensible to Miyuki’s brain, Sawamura decides to join in. Hence leaving Miyuki surrounded with a pile of their kit bags. 

With a sigh, he stands up, hoists them all up onto his shoulders and strolls behind them unhurriedly. He should be irritated at Sawamura’s hypocrisy - wasn’t the whole reason Sawamura came to help Miyuki? - but he can’t bring himself to feel anything except the gooey, sticky feeling permeating his chest. Mortifyingly, he also realises that he’s been smiling like an idiot.

Miyuki immediately straightens his mouth and quickens his pace so he doesn’t completely lose track of the three idiots. But when he catches Sawamura bump into an old lady and hold her momentarily hostage with a flurry of bows and formal Japanese, he can’t help but to laugh out loud.

\---

The café that Sawamura pulls them into is cute. Very, very cute. It’s got a pastel pink and green colour theme with animal stickers covering the walls. Even the seating is adorable, with doll-sized animal plushies everywhere on the soft-looking throw rugs bedecking the sofas and armchairs. Miyuki mostly appreciates the fact the whole place seems to smell like sugar - it’s certainly a change from being surrounded by sweat. 

Oh, and there are cats. 

“Miyuki- Miyuki look! She’s sitting on me!” Sawamura squeals, while frantically petting the calico that’s settled on his lap. “She’s so cute!” 

“It’s a cat, Sawamura. Are you a ten year old girl?” Miyuki says drily, although he can’t really look away from them once he realises that Sawamura and the cat make an overwhelmingly adorable scene. 

Hinata, meanwhile, has a large, black cat nestled by his side which looks much too graceful and elegant for him. He looks up from stroking it reverently to see what Miyuki is saying, and his eyes widen. 

“Miyuki, they love you!” 

Miyuki looks down. There are three cats clambering over him. Two calicos and a smaller, but feistier, tabby. He’s not too surprised. For some reason, animals have always liked him - he’s not quite sure why. Even when he was younger, he tended to have a cat or a bird following him home from practice. Of course, he’s not complaining. 

While trying to calm the tabby by scratching it behind its ears, he smirks at Hinata. “Of course they do. Everyone does.” 

Tuning out the resultant squawks of protest from Sawamura, he turns to Kageyama who’s beside him, and is amused to see that he’s sulking. There are no cats around him at all. 

“Kageyama, stop frowning! Smile! You’re scaring off the animals,” Hinata bubbles while simultaneously being in raptures over his calico.   
Kageyama responds with a scowl, but then tries to straighten out his face into a much more disconcerting attempt at a smile. Miyuki covers a laugh with his hand. Feeling pity for Kageyama, he grabs a small, fat orange cat with stumpy legs off the ground and practically thrusts it at Kageyama. 

“Pet him behind the ears,” Miyuki advises. 

Kageyama does, and, miraculously, this frumpy thing leans its misshapen head into his hand. Despite its less-than-perfect appearance, the look of pure adoration Kageyama is now giving it (well, Miyuki is extrapolating that it’s a look of adoration) is quite touching. 

Hinata, who looks like the kind of person to watch cat videos in his spare time, gazes at Kageyama wondrously but also pensively. Miyuki catches his eye and gives him a wolfish grin which has him looking back at his calico bashfully. 

“Ok, Miyuki Kazuya! Kageyama Tobio! Hinata Shouyou and I shall depart to fetch double-hour coupons for our rest here, and beverages for all!” Sawamura exclaims pompously, seemingly having descended into archaic Japanese for no reason at all. He drags along a confused Hinata, leaving Miyuki with an even more nonplussed Kageyama and six cats. 

Miyuki turns to Kageyama, planning to make some sort of quip about his lack of feline attention, when he realises he needs to go to the bathroom since he never actually went in the izakaya. 

“Hey, I’m going to the bathroom. Take care of the cats,” he tells Kageyama, pushing them all towards him. The sheer panic on Kageyama’s face is hilarious. Miyuki wishes he could take a photograph. Instead, he settles for laughing softly under his breath at Kageyama’s plight while squinting to try and spot a sign for the bathroom. He ends up wandering in circles before being forced to ask an employee who directs him down an excessively long and winding route in the back to an obscure corridor he hadn’t realised existed. 

What is this place, a labyrinth? 

Just as he’s about to push the door open, he feels a buzz in the pocket of his shorts, and pulls out his phone. As he unlocks it, he absentmindedly leans on the pastel blue wall beside it. 

_**4 new messages** _

**Ryosuke-san: waiting out the trains in a cat cafe with sawamura? interesting, miyuki.**

**Mochi: yo u left ur bento n me n kawakami ate it. Lol**   
**Mochi: damnnn chris-senpai said ur trains were delayed or smth?? yikes hope ur ok**   
**Mochi: hah also ryo-san put a tracking app on ur phone. he’s looking at it rn don’t tell him i tlod u. lol**

Miyuki rolls his eyes at them both, but he can’t help laughing softly at their antics.

Classic.

Leaning a bit further into the wall, he begins to construct some sarcastic responses for Kuramochi. 

Just as he’s opening the chat box for Ryosuke and tilting his phone in the hopes of better reception, he notices a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye, and reflexively looks over his shoulder to see three broad figures dragging a writhing girl towards the seemingly deserted pantry along the corridor by her upper arms. 

The next few seconds pass in a blur. 

Miyuki immediately shoves his phone into his pocket, and races after them down the corridor on pure instinct alone. 

“O-oi! Let her go! Leave her be!” 

He reaches the door they disappeared into. Miyuki bangs on it with all his might until his knuckles are almost bleeding, and all the while he yells so his voice is totally hoarse. At the back of his mind, he prays that someone will hear the ruckus and come to investigate, but he also notices with a sickening realisation that this isolated area is well out of earshot from the main dining area and kitchen. It’s much too far away. 

In a fit of frustration, he resorts to kicking the door and that’s when it finally flies open. Miyuki pauses to take in the sight. There are three broad and tall - really, really tall - men who look like college students. They’re all crowding like predators around their absolutely tiny target, who is backed against the wall and utterly petrified. 

Miyuki seriously feels as if his blood is going to boil over when he sees that she looks as if she’s in junior high. 

He knows the expression he’s making must convey all of this when one of them happens to look over and make eye contact with him before freezing on the spot. 

As the others turn towards him too, Miyuki prepares to bite out everything he feels, and to tell them exactly what he thinks. But as the eyes on him morph from surprised to threatening he finds himself lost for words. His feet feel like they’re glued to the ground. 

Before he knows it, the door he kicked open has been deftly bolted and locked again. The girl has been neglected in favour of a new target: him. 

As he struggles against the coarse wall he’s being pinned to by the throat, he curses himself for a split second for choosing to intervene, and then hates himself immediately afterwards. 

Eventually, after what feels like an eternity, the hand clamping down on his neck disappears, and Miyuki falls to the ground. Feeling dizzy with oxygen-deprivation, he can’t stop himself from bending over and coughing his lungs out. As he’s coughing, he accidentally jolts himself and bangs his head against the wall with a dull thud. Right over his injury. Wincing, he slaps a hand to the back of his head, before turning warily to keep an eye on his attackers who are staring down at him with fascination. 

Although his vision’s blurry from both his lack of glasses and the blow to his head, he tries to concentrate. Now they’re closer to him, he can notice things about them. Like the fact that he really doesn’t like the look in their eyes, or the way they’re smiling. Miyuki carefully gathers himself together. He’s outnumbered here. He has to be smart.

“Well, well, well,” one of the two standing above him says with a leering grin. He has an ugly streak of blond hair running across his head. “Looks like we have knight in shining armour, huh?”

The third one is too busy standing over the girl on the other side of the room who has been completely silent, as far as Miyuki knows. A stab of pain runs through him just as her stricken face etches itself in his mind. He can’t help but imagine Sawamura in her place.  

Miyuki ignores the preservational instincts in his body screaming at him to stay down, and tries to scramble to his feet. If he can just get to his phone, he can call Sawamura from speed dial. That’s probably his best bet. 

It’s harder to convince himself of that after he tries to get up and the blond one grips his collar forcefully yet again before slamming him back onto the tiled floor. Miyuki can feel his phone being wrestled out of his back pocket as he’s goes down, and has to let out a string of swears - his best bet at getting out of this situation is gone, just like that. 

“Lan-guage,” the blond guy trills mockingly. “Come on, now, for such a pretty boy, you’ve got a filthy mouth.” 

Miyuki shudders involuntarily in disgust, and tries to assess his position again. There’s no chance of slipping out, given that one of them is standing in front of the door. They’re stronger than him, too. That means he needs to talk. 

“Look, I don’t want any trouble,” he says as breezily as he can manage while being pressed into the wall by a fist on his collar. It’s hard to ignore his open head wound mashing against course plaster with every word. “Just let us go. Neither of us are going to tell anyone if you let us leave right now, but if you keep us here, then you’ll probably regret it. I have friends waiting for me outside. I’m sure they’re wondering where I am.” 

He waits, mouth dry, as they seem to reflect on this. He’s given them an opportunity to let it go. He’s warned them that he has people outside. The girl is nodding in agreement hysterically, although she still seems too scared to speak.

But the one who bolted the door, presumably the ringleader, takes a deliberate step forward instead. He has has frighteningly cold brown eyes, and he doesn’t bother acknowledging Miyuki with his next words. 

“Haven’t we seen him before?” 

WIthout waiting for a response, he crouches down before boldly tracing a finger down Miyuki’s left cheekbone, as if he’s daring Miyuki to react. Miyuki follows it warily until it reaches the corner of his mouth where it lingers, but otherwise does nothing. He needs to wait for the right point to speak again. 

“Yeah, we have,” replies the blond one. Miyuki twitches distractedly when he sees the third member of the trio make as if to slap the girl before dissolving into laughter when she cowers away. It takes effort to tear away his gaze and look at his imminent threat. “Look, Ito; it says his name on his shirt. He must be an athlete. Mi-yu-ki. Miyuki. Is that your name?” 

Miyuki doesn’t say anything, opting to nod stiffly, but he’s relentless and grips the collar of his shirt even tighter. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thinks he hears footsteps outside the door, but when he peeks over, there’s nothing. 

“Sato asked you if that’s your name,” Ito repeats loftily and stands up as Sato twists his collar so tightly it cuts into his skin. “Tell him your full name, seeing as you were too rude to give him an answer.” 

“Miyuki Kazuya,” he replies quickly, and immediately regrets giving his real name. 

“Miyuki Kazuya, Miyuki Kazuya… ikemen catcher! Ito, Nakamura, he’s the pretty-face catcher from Seido. Right?” 

Miyuki sits up. He can’t waste anymore time - not for him, or the girl - even if that means sacrificing something.

“Yeah. I play baseball - that sport with hard, wooden bats? It would probably be in your best interests to give me my phone and then leave me alone,” he says as sharply and smarmily as he can manage over the sound of his heart richocheting around his chest. “Unless that’s too many words for your thick skulls to understand?” 

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he hears a loud smacking sound, and only then registers the pain in his left cheek from the slap. Miyuki will admit to himself that he probably earned that one. 

“Really? You’re making threats to us? From the ground? Come on, Kazuya,” says Ito pityingly, and drawing out Miyuki’s first name almost endearingly. Miyuki feels nauseous.   
“Aren’t catchers meant to be smarter than that?” 

Ito leans in from his far-off position and kneels beside Sato against. He glances at Sato, who pins Miyuki back up against the wall by his collar. Miyuki winces in pain. Meanwhile, Ito grins and grasps Miyuki’s chin before tilting it up. 

What the-

As he’s forced to look at himself reflected in Ito’s cold eyes, Miyuki feels a pang of real fear race through him for the first time when he sees the fist poised to strike his jaw. 

Just as he’s gathering the energy to scream again, the door bangs open once more as someone kicks it open like he had before. Sato and Ito back away like they’ve been burned and stand up, leaving Miyuki to rub his neck in relief, before whipping his head round to see who’s at the door. 

“The police are on their way, so don’t think about running or anything. Get away from him, give me the phone, and follow me.” 

Miyuki watches from the floor, half-dazed, as a tall, imposing man wearing a Kawaii Cafe uniform with the tag ‘Kuroo’ written on in chicken scratch stands at the door with arms akimbo. He and the employees behind him usher all three of them out of the room swiftly. They don’t look back. 

After a few seconds of silence, Miyuki quickly stands up and holds out a hand to the girl opposite him. 

“Are you alright?” he asks urgently. From this close proximity, he realises that she actually doesn’t look anything like Sawamura. Where he’s hard and broad, she’s soft and pliant. And neither her eyes nor her hair are brown. She’s just a scared junior high schooler.  

After he helps her to her feet, he quickly drops her hand and turns away. The pure gratitude flooding her face makes him uncomfortable, and he’s not quite sure why.

Thankfully, a female employee with a kind smile approaches them and leads her out with a blanket before Miyuki has to say anything else, and he’s left with a feeling of unease he can’t put his finger on. 

It doesn’t last for long, though, when Kageyama - who must have been hiding behind Kuroo - immediately crosses over to him and awkwardly punches him on the shoulder in what Miyuki believes is an approximation of a reassuring pat. 

“Are you, um, okay? You were taking a while so I just came to check on you, and, well. I ran back to get Kuroo as soon as I could.”

Miyuki can’t respond at first because of the massive wave of déjà vu coming over him.

“Twice you’ve rescued me in one day, huh,” he says jokingly.

Kageyama doesn’t quite smile, but his features do shift slightly. Miyuki follows him back to their table/armchairs in silence. 

“I have some painkillers - Suga-san made me bring them,” he proposes gruffly when they’ve both settled down. “Do you want them... ? I think Kuroo-san is getting the first aid kit for you.” 

Miyuki raises his eyebrow at him, the shock already wearing off at this small, though misguided, act of kindness. 

“Hey, this isn’t my first time being beaten up. I’m not made of glass; you don’t have to look at me like that. You came in like a knight in sweaty armour before anything could happen. And thanks, Kageyama, but you can’t just pop those pills whenever. You have to wait six hours between them,” he says with an eye roll.

“Oh.” 

Miyuki can’t help but chuckle a bit at how put-out Kageyama’s frown looks. Thinking about how he almost looks like a puppy takes him to another point. 

“Wait, where are Sawamura and Hinata-kun?”  

“Ditching you two to talk to Kitten.” 

Miyuki turns to look at the owner of the new voice coming from right beside them. It’s Kuroo Tetsurou, the knight in shining armour. 

Although he had appeared ridiculously tall and authoritative, now he looks almost… reassuring. Maybe it’s the pastel pink apron, or the entire line of kittens following him, but he certainly looks much less intimidating than he had in the bathroom. His suave grin mirrors Miyuki’s own as he hands Miyuki a towel and ice pack for his head. 

“Which one? There’s like a hundred of them here, if you hadn’t noticed,” Miyuki replies with his own brand of snark, looking Kuroo right in the eyes before twisting to press the ice pack and towel to his head wound. He can’t help but close his eyes in relief at how good it feels to have pressure against it. 

Kuroo seems taken aback by Miyuki’s response for a moment, but he easily shifts into a grin and laughs aloud before taking a seat next to Kageyama. Miyuki can’t help but marvel a little at just how gravity-defying his hair appears to be.   
“How many of them are volleyball players that hate exercise though?” he says, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “His real name is Kenma. He’s over there. I’m Kuroo Tetsurou, by the way, third-year at Nekoma.” 

“Nice to meet you. I’m Miyuki Kazuya, second-year catcher at Seido.” 

Miyuki follows Kuroo’s pointing gesture, and sees Sawamura talking animatedly (as ever) with Hinata and an apathetic-looking guy with a bad bleach job at another table on the other side of the cafe.

“By the way, are you alright?” Kuroo asks abruptly, drawing Miyuki’s attention. “Came over here to let you know that anything you want is on the house, as well as the drinks you guys already ordered.” 

 Miyuki considers Kuroo for a second, before tilting his head to peer over at Sawamura again. Looking at Sawamura’s face, undoubtedly talking at a million miles an hour without a care in the world, he makes a decision, and looks back at Kuroo. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Do you guys mind not telling Sawamura, and I guess Hinata too then, what you walked in on in the bathroom?” he asks measuredly, laying the ice pack next to him. 

Kageyama raises an eyebrow but nods. Meanwhile, Kuroo tilts his head in an oddly feline motion.

“Um, I mean, sure. It’s not my thing to share. But is it because you think he’ll judge you or-”

“No,” Miyuki cuts in overly sharply. Toning down his voice a little, he continues. “No, he wouldn’t judge me. It’s because he shouldn’t need to stress about me or anything. I’m okay, if a bit shaken, nothing happened, and there’s no need to make him worried.” 

“Okay,” Kuroo says doubtfully.

“Kuroo-san, why aren’t you and Kenma-san at Nekoma?” Kageyama pitches in after a brief silence. “Our team’s on their way there right now.” 

“Oh, we’re going to set off in five minutes after my shift. Besides, the matches don’t start until half an hour after we told your team to arrive.” 

“Wha- why?” 

Kuroo shrugs unconcernedly, and steals a sip of Kageyama’s milky boba tea. “Coach’s idea. He got annoyed about how you guys always turned up twenty minutes late and then spent ten minutes trying to goad our team before your inevitable loss.” 

“... oh.” 

Miyuki laughs out loud and takes a sip from the fruity looking cold drink Sawamura ordered him. It’s sweet, almost overwhelmingly so, but it tastes refreshing at the same time. He can taste passion fruit - his favourite. 

“After seeing your team, I’m really not surprised,” Miyuki adds. “Seriously, I thought we were off the rails but you guys are actually crazy.” 

“You should see them playing,” Kuroo says with a shudder. “We thought they’d be the same on and off the court but somehow they get even… louder? Wait, I think I have a video.” 

As Kuroo rummages around his pockets to presumably find his phone, Miyuki presses the ice pack to his head again. The throbbing has gone down a lot, and he feels way better already. 

“There, got it!” 

Kuroo leans over the table - nearly knocking over Kageyama’s tea in the process - and eagerly shows them what looks like the beginning of a match. Miyuki easily picks out Hinata and Kageyama, the latter of whom is leaning over his shoulder subtly to have a peek. Karasuno are wearing the same black and orange uniforms that Hinata and Kageyama have got at the moment, and other team is dressed in teal and white. 

Miyuki’s never played or seen any volleyball outside of his P.E. lessons, and even those were a bit of a shambles. Seido’s a baseball powerhouse, decent at football if you squint and unremarkable at everything else. But as he watches the game rapidly unfolding over Kuroo’s phone screen, he can’t help but be drawn into it. 

Hinata jumps ridiculously high. That’s the first thing he notices. Miyuki’s fairly certain it should be impossible for someone of his physical stature to make those leaps, and every time he sees a blur of ginger hair leap from one end to the other, he can’t help his jaw from dropping. Judging from Kuroo’s smirk, it must be a common reaction. 

But as the game progresses on, Miyuki moves from casually watching the game as an awestruck observer into his analytical side, and slowly, he pieces together more than meets the eye. 

He hadn’t noticed anything spectacular about them on first meeting them, but it only takes about twenty seconds into the video for him to realise that the short no.4 and Kageyama are clearly leagues above the rest of their teammates. Even for someone who doesn’t know anything about volleyball, Miyuki thinks it’s fair enough to say that the effortless athletic skill they seem to exude is extremely impressive. His eyes are particularly fixed on Kageyama: he’s like a completely different person on the court. Miyuki can practically see the cogs in his mind turning on the court, and it reminds him an eerily large amount of himself. 

Kuroo pauses the video just as Tsukishima leaps up to stop a block with his arms outstretched, and Miyuki tears his eyes away from the screen. 

“Whatcha think?” Kuroo asks with a smirk. He’s leaning right over the table again - why is his torso so lanky - and Miyuki’s not sure what he should say, considering how Kageyama is also right next to him. He decides to be honest.

“Well, you are excellent,” he tells Kageyama bluntly. Kageyama preens imperceptibly at the praise. “And your team are really good. You work together well. You and Hinata especially. Also, your number four is insanely good, too.” 

“Nishinoya is amazing!” Kageyama blurts out. His eyes are practically sparkling. “He is nicknamed the Guardian deity of Karasuno for a reason. And he’s also very very cool indeed.” 

Miyuki and Kuroo make amused eye contact at Kageyama’s enthusiasm for a few seconds, before Miyuki continues. 

“On the other team, though, it felt like their, uh, what do you call them - oh yeah, spikers. It felt like their spikers were more accurate and more powerful than yours.”

There’s a short silence and Miyuki wonders whether that was a bit harsh. Kuroo answers breezily enough, though.

“Yeah, that’s probably because of Oikawa. He’s as good as he is annoyingly handsome. Didn’t he use to teach you or something, Kageyama?” 

Miyuki takes a sip of his drink, and casually looks over towards Kageyama for his response. He almost chokes on it when he sees Kageyama looking thunderstruck. 

“He was my senpai,” Kageyama mutters while staring holes into the table. The atmosphere suddenly becomes stale, and there’s a very long silence after that. Evidently Kuroo senses it, because he quickly excuses himself with a polite smile for Miyuki and a squeeze of Kageyama’s shoulder. 

Miyuki watches him - and the army of cats behind him - leave, and then turns to Kageyama with a raised brow. 

“What’s with that reaction?” 

Kageyama doesn’t reply immediately. Miyuki’s resigned to assuming that he’s never going to get an answer. Even when he thinks Kageyama is going to acknowledge him, he’s interrupted by Sawamura and Hinata bounding over. Like, literally bounding over. 

“Hey guys!” Sawamura chirps. 

Miyuki schools his face into a mask of impartiality to hide the reflexive smile he wants to make. 

“Yo, Bakamura. What is it?” 

“Soooo,” Hinata takes over, nodding his head from side to side like a bobbly-head toy, “Kenma recommended us this really cool sounding arcade just over there; can you see it?” 

Miyuki cranes his head to try and look through the pastel pink tinted window; yeah, he can see it. The arcade looks fairly good, actually - it’s not too flashy, but the adverts have a decent selection of games - and as a gamer himself he appreciates those kind of hole-in-the-wall places to big, fluorescent department store ones. 

(And the fact that Sawamura looks cutest when he’s competitive is pretty tempting too.) 

But when Miyuki looks over at Kageyama again - who’s shrunk into himself completely and has a stiffness to his demanor that wasn’t there before - he feels strangely compelled to stay. 

“I’m not going,” Kagyema says through gritted teeth and without making eye contact with any of them. “I’ll wait here.” 

Miyuki half expects Hinata to yell in protest or start wheedling Kageyama, but instead he just cocks his head to the side for a second and observes Kageyama. There’s an awkward pause for a few seconds, but eventually Hinata shrugs the tension off after gathering whatever information he wanted to from Kageyama’s face.  

“Okay, sure. Miyuki, are you coming?”

Miyuki looks out of the window again, and then back to Kageyama’s face; there’s something unresolved creasing the lines of his face. 

“No, I think I’ll pass.” Noticing Sawamura’s pout, he rolls his eyes and shoots him an apologetic smile. Sawamura's face morphs instantly into a face-breaking grin, and Miyuki has to look away so Sawamura doesn't see the dopey look on his face. “So we’ll meet you back here in an hour?” 

“Sounds good,” Hinata trills, before hopping off and dragging Sawamura with him. 

“See you later!”


End file.
